Prove it

On weekday mornings, I set my alarm for approximately 4 a.m. For some reason, the only way I can discipline myself to be anywhere at 8 a.m. is to wake up around 4. (I'm 39 years old. I'm finally getting to know myself. Perhaps my former coworkers who witnessed my chronic tardiness are now reading this and thinking, "Well, it's about time.") Maybe someday I can also discipline myself to have a nice little 30-minute "quiet time" before I leave for work in the mornings. For now, I sometimes just read the Bible while I eat breakfast, and sometimes I pray while I'm in the shower and drive to work. Sometimes I spend some "quiet time" ranting to God in the afternoon if I need to work through something that bubbles up in my heart, and then I usually spend some more "quiet time" with Him in the evenings. (Seriously, on days when I pray while I'm waiting for my conditioner to set, my hair ends up looking REALLY good.)

A major downside to waking up at 4 a.m., of course, is that my cats are now used to being fed at approximately that time. Sometimes I wake up to the sound of Macho meow-insisting at 3 or 3:30. On the weekends, when I try to sleep in, I'll simply wake up when my cats get hungry, feed them, and then go back to sleep for a few more hours. This morning, for example, Macho meow-woke me up at 4:40. (Don't worry; I didn't snap the above photo until around 10:30.)

Whenever I tell people that my weekday morning routine seriously takes about 4 hours, they either laugh at me or they freak out and try to fix me. They start asking me somewhat personal questions like, "What do you DO in the mornings??" Well, I feed the cats (twice), take a shower, get dressed, and eat breakfast, not that it's any of your business. I've already tried everything I can think of to make my routine shorter. But I'm a morning person, and I'm an introverted creative person. If I don't get to take my time and work through things in my head/heart that may bubble up during my wake-up routine, I might arrive to work angry and irritable instead of alert and cheerful. Trust me: This 4 a.m. thing has proven to work for me.

Lately, I've been thinking about the concept of people needing to "prove" themselves. For example, during one episode of Restaurant: Impossible, Chef Robert Irvine (who is notorious for being blunt and harsh when you first meet him) said that whenever he hires a new employee, he won't even talk to them for about two or three months. He'll wait until they prove themselves to be a good, competent employee before he'll start to build a relationship with them. At first, I thought this was a terrible thing for him to do. But then I realized that it was probably also happening to me, so it isn't a terrible thing at all.

I have zero complaints about my current job. When people ask me if I like working there, I reply with my honest opinion: "This is an editing paradise." But even though I've already been there for two months, people are still introducing themselves to me, welcoming me, and telling me that they're glad to have me aboard. I thought that was something you were supposed to do from the get-go: Assume that somebody was who they said they were, trust them to do their job, and then get shocked and heartbroken when they turn out to be a total slob who you end up firing.

But I've learned that waiting for somebody to prove themselves is a biblical thing. And, not to mention, it could save you some heartache later on.

"Be diligent to present yourself approved to God, a worker who does not need to be ashamed, rightly dividing the word of truth." (2 Timothy 2:15)

"My brethren, count it all joy when you fall into various trials, knowing that the testing of your faith produces patience." (James 1:2)

"So the servants of the owner came and said to him, 'Sir, did you not sow good seed in your field? How then does it have tares?' ... 'Let both grow together until the harvest, and at the time of harvest I will say to the reapers, "First gather together the tares and bind them in bundles to burn them, but gather the wheat into my barn." ' " (Matthew 13:27, 30)

So, God tests us, too. Of course. In that sense, I guess you could say that we need to prove ourselves to Him, even though technically He already knows what's inside us, and even though we probably already have an idea of what's inside us as well. He's a just God, but He's also a God of grace. He understands, more than anyone else, that sometimes it can take a long time for the testing and approval process to happen. (It just feels like it takes forever.) He lets the tares grow with the wheat; He lets the bad weeds grow with the good crop for a while. Then at harvest time, He pulls out the bad weeds and gets rid of them forever, while simultaneously cashing in on the good crop. (If He had tried to get rid of the bad stuff prematurely, He would have risked accidentally destroying the good stuff along with it.)

This idea of "proving" yourself is new to me. I grew up being very codependent. I grew up thinking that if you were a certain way in life, you were doomed to stay that way forever. If someone living in your house was a heartbreaking slob, then it was your frustrating duty to pick up the slack for them forever. As a young adult, I believed that you needed to hand over your entire heart on a silver platter to anyone as soon as you met them. If they turned out to be a total jerk, you wouldn't even notice, and then you'd wonder why you had so many random problems in your life.

But that's not God's way.

"The righteous should choose his friends carefully, for the way of the wicked leads them astray." (Proverbs 12:26)

Some translations of this verse say to be "cautious" in friendship. This is a lesson that I've been learning in recent years. Even more recently, I've been learning how to wait to let someone prove themselves to me before I share too much of my heart with them. It might sound strange and cruel, but it has actually saved me at least a tiny bit of heartache.

But Someone else wants to prove Himself also.

" 'Bring all the tithes into the storehouse, that there may be food in My house, and try Me now in this,' says the Lord of hosts, 'If I will not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you such blessing that there will not be room enough to receive it.' " (Malachi 3:10)

In this verse, God says, "try Me," but in the King James Version, He says, "prove Me." Sure, in Deuteronomy, Matthew, and Luke, the Bible says to not test God, but in Malachi it's very clear that God wants us to put Him to one very particular test. (And I'm not just saying so because I'm a member of a church whose pastor is famous for his life-message on tithing/giving.)

When I got my first job straight out of college, I worked part-time for minimum wage, and I lived with some roommates. One of them had a laidback conversation with me about tithing. She said that sometimes "God understands" when we don't tithe. That conversation stuck in my head for years, and I think I let it influence my financial decisions. For years, I would pretty much only tithe whenever I would feel like it or whenever I would remember to. As a result, of course, God would pretty much only rebuke the devourer (Malachi 3:11) whenever He would feel like it, so to speak. A few years after I got out of college, I was so poor that I would only have about $10 to spend on two weeks' worth of groceries from every paycheck. Every weekday, I would eat a tuna sandwich and popcorn for lunch, and then I would come home and fry myself some eggs for dinner. People thought I was exercising or dieting. Nope. I was just poor.

Now anytime I get paid, I tithe ASAP. Why? Because that money isn't mine. As a result, sometimes I look at my checkbook, and I'm like, "Um... how did I end up with all this money left over?" And God is like, "You sound surprised." Yes, Father, I am. But I shouldn't be, because You've proven Yourself to be faithful to take care of me financially if I just give You back what's Yours financially.

I'm certainly not saying that I should always be a cynical person who demands that people show themselves worthy of my friendship before I will give them the time of day. And I'm also not saying that I should live my life always doubting if God is who He says He is. I'm just saying that it's biblical to be more careful with people, to not be surprised when people wait for me to prove myself to them, and to let God show off His awesome provision whenever I let Him.

So, I guess you could say that just like how my cats can trust me to feed them at approximately 4 a.m. every day, I can trust God to feed me everything I need every day. Hmm. Who'd a thunk that needing to prove oneself was a God thing? I guess when you spend some time getting to know Somebody, you find out all kinds of stuff like that.

Show-off

This is the part of the blog post where I would normally tell an anecdote about me and my cats and compare it to my relationship with God, and where I would include adorable cat photos to back myself up, but I think I'll skip that part this time. I'm just going to launch into talking about Somebody who is infinitely cooler than I could ever hope to be.

"You prepare a table before me in the presence of my enemies..." (Psalm 23:5a)

Lately while I've been opening my Bible (or my computer or my phone app) to Isaiah chapter 1 and wondering if I can read any further in my waaaaay-behind Bible reading schedule, God has been leading me to Psalms 23, 22, and 2. What has stuck out to me this week especially is 23:5. God prepares a table before me... in the presence of my enemies? My enemies are the devil and his fallen angels. Why the heck would I want to eat a meal in front of them? Gross.

I think it's because God is a Show-off, in the purest sense of the word. No, of course God isn't arrogant or annoying or prideful. He hates all that stuff. But if anyone in the entire universe deserves to show off, it's definitely God.

I don't think it's an accident that Psalm 23 happens to be right next to Psalm 22.

"But You are holy, enthroned in the praises of Israel." (Psalm 22:3)

This verse is quoted a lot, especially when people talk about praise/worship music. But its original context in Psalm 22 isn't a pleasant one at all. It's a psalm of David that prophesies how Jesus would die; for example, verse 16 says, "They pierced My hands and My feet," and verse 18 says, "for My clothing they cast lots." Psalm 22 talks about agonizing pain. After about 20 verses of excruciating torture, the psalmist switches gears in verse 21: "You have answered Me." Then he spends the rest of the psalm talking about how God will be praised and worshiped -- how He is going to get the glory for helping him through his agony.

I think verse 3 kinda sticks out like a sore thumb (or maybe like a healthy thumb in a sea of soreness). Right in the middle of the agony, God is going to get the glory. So, Jesus is hanging on the cross, experiencing agonizing pain that no other created being on earth could ever possibly suffer, and God is enthroned on the praises of His people?

Rewind back to Psalm 2, and I think it all kinda ties together.

"I will declare the decree: The Lord has said to Me, 'You are My Son, today I have begotten You. Ask of Me, and I will give You the nations for Your inheritance, and the ends of the earth for Your possession.' " (Psalm 2:7)

Psalm 2 is a terrifying psalm, I think, because it starts out with humanity rebelling against authority and basically saying, "Pffffft. We don't need to follow Jesus." Then God laughs -- not a cutsie little schoolgirl giggle, but a Most-Powerful-Being-In-The-Universe-Who-Killed-People-In-The-Bible laugh. Then He shows everybody who's boss. He basically says, "Nuh-uh. I'm the One who made Jesus King. You had better kiss Him or else."

Yes, Lord. No problem.

Now back to the idea of God being a Show-off. (The Best kind.)

Years ago, I heard the saying, "A coincidence is when God chooses to be anonymous." I'm sorry, but I think that's a load of crap. I don't see anything in the Bible where God was trying to do a good deed and then cover it up by choosing to be anonymous. I think the closest scenarios would be incidents where Jesus' life needed to be protected before He went to the cross, such as where He would perform a miracle and instruct the person to not tell anybody about the miracle (e.g., Mark 1:44). But even in those cases, God certainly wasn't anonymous. The people involved knew who Jesus was, and there was no question who He was or what He could do. Pffffft. Coincidence, shmoincidence. God wants to take the credit for what He's done. God wants to be KNOWN.

You think Jesus went to all the trouble of being born on this earth as a Man, living 100% sinless, and then being tortured and crucified in broad daylight just so He could remain anonymous? No way.

I've recently read/heard preachers talk about how God's glory was meant to be seen -- how He certainly does NOT want to be anonymous. Exodus 33:11 says that Moses spoke to God face to face as a man speaks to his friend. In verse 18, Moses asked God to show him His glory. (God was like, "I'd love to, but if I did, you'd get burned to a crisp, and I kinda need you alive so that you can finish My work for you here on earth; but what I can do is let you see My back while I pass by... because I'm the Lion of Judah. We Felines are totally cool with you seeing Our backsides.") In Exodus 34, Moses accidentally freaked out the people of Israel because his face was so shiny from talking to God. He had been with God, and he couldn't help being radiant because of it.

"All Your works shall praise You, O Lord, and Your saints shall bless You. They shall speak of the glory of Your kingdom, and talk of Your power, to make known to the sons of men His mighty acts, and the glorious majesty of His kingdom." (Psalm 145:10-12)

"For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory which shall be revealed in us." (Romans 8:18)

So, in Psalm 23:5 when God says that He prepares a table before me in the presence of my enemies... after I've been made to lie down in green pastures... after I've been led in paths of righteousness for God's name's sake... after I've walked through the valley of the shadow of death...

God sits me down smack-dab in the presence of my enemies who tortured me in the first place. Perhaps with many words, perhaps with few words, or perhaps with no words, He sits me down at a banquet -- right where all my enemies can see me -- and says, "See? She's still here. I did that. You thought you could take her out, but you didn't. I rescued her. I kept her alive. I won. You lost. And now she's going to eat food that you're never going to be able to eat. Your turn to be tortured, losers. See My feet? That's where you need to bow. 'Cause I'm in charge, and I always win. I'm the King."

Oh, yeah. God's totally a Show-off, and He's the only kind of Show-off that you'll ever want to be around. In fact, I don't ever want to stop following Him around. I'm hooked. I'm hopelessly hooked.

Shopping, browsing, owning, knowing

Parking at my apartment complex is pretty much first-come, first-serve. So, for the past couple of evenings, I've been delighted to see that the spot where I usually like to park was vacant. "My space!" I've exclaimed. Not that I actually own my usual parking spot. (And not to be confused with the outdated social media site myspace.)

The concept of ownership is very important to me. Maybe I'm just like a cat.

I heard the cat-whispering expert Jackson Galaxy explain on his TV show once that a cat needs to have a spot that he/she owns. In my apartment, Macho "owns" a spot under my bed and a spot on my couch. These are places where he naps, snuggles, rests, and hides from the rest of the world.

 

As pictured here, Choochie "owns" a spot on my couch, too.

But I've recently realized that she has a deeper, longer-term sense of ownership somewhere else: my chest.

I truly hope this doesn't sound crass, but a woman's chest is kind of a multi-purpose area. One main purpose of a mother's chest is to comfort her child. It's a nicely cushioned area where a child can find refuge, be embraced, and have a good cry if necessary.

My chest is Choochie's default snuggle spot. No matter what I'm doing, no matter how sleepy or hungry she is, and no matter how awkward of a climb it is for her, she will find a way to crawl onto my lap and hoist herself up to my chest. Sometimes she doesn't even snuggle -- she just stands there and purr-meows, perhaps as if to claim her territory for anyone within earshot. I think when I'm trying to fall asleep at night and she tries to half-crawl under the covers, she's actually looking for her default snuggle spot (which isn't set up for her properly when I'm lying down on my side). Once in a while, I will wake up at 1 or 3 in the morning flat on my back to the sound of Choochie loudly purring while reclining on my chest. (I love you, too, kitty. Um, did you know that it's 1 in the morning?)

Actually, anytime she doesn't snuggle on my chest, and she just stands there awkwardly instead, it can get a bit frustrating for me. (Especially if I'm trying to watch TV or type something on my laptop.) I mean, just recline and let me pet you for a while, kitty. You're my baby, and I want to enjoy you, too.

Yes, of course I've been building up to a giant analogy.

"The ox knows its owner and the donkey its master's crib; but Israel does not know, My people do not consider." (Isaiah 1:3)

I started rereading the Book of Isaiah I think a couple of weeks ago... but I haven't really been able to finish chapter 1 yet. I've been stuck in / obsessing over verse 3. It's basically saying that, in this particular context, an ox and a donkey are smarter than Israel. Or I guess you could also say that my cats are smarter than I am.

From what I understand about Isaiah chapter 1, God isn't cool with how Israel dissed Him. Out of all the other peoples of the world, God chose Israel to be His very own. But all throughout the Bible, they repeatedly turned away from God and worshiped other gods. I guess you could say that Israel was like a giant rebellious teenager who would get in serious trouble, beg for forgiveness, turn around and get in serious trouble all over again, rinse and repeat.

Nothing against Israel, of course, because I'm the same way. To a degree, we all are.

I think Isaiah 1:3 is saying that an ox knows who owns him/her. Even a donkey knows where he/she belongs. (Yes, even my cats know where their home is and where their snuggle spots are.) But Israel was clueless. I've been clueless, too, and God has had to continually retrain me.

"The beloved of the Lord shall dwell in safety by Him, who shelters him all the day long; and he shall dwell between His shoulders." (Deuteronomy 33:12)

I think that space between God's shoulders -- that snuggle spot that God wants me to have with Him -- is right there on His chest.

During my most recent round of psychotherapy, I discovered that I'm addicted to turmoil. (And I blogged about it, of course. You can read about it here if you like.) That was a huge discovery for me last year. Since then, I've learned that there are healthy ways for me to get my turmoil "fix," such as watching reality shows (where there are always tons of conflict), yelling at demons whenever I do spiritual warfare, etc.

But lately my life has been settling into a very nice, quiet routine that is almost turmoil-free. Of course, during the past several years, my soul has been getting used to peace and quiet -- things that are actually supposed to be normal, but had been foreign to my soul.

Sometimes emotional things will churn and boil inside my heart/head because I need to work through them. This is healthy. But other times, my heart/head will boil and freak out unnecessarily. Perhaps this is the turmoil addiction that I've been gradually getting a handle on.

God recently told me something that has helped me immensely: "Don't go shopping for strife inside your head."

I'm a woman, but for some reason I don't have the clothes-shopping gene that most other women seem to have. In case you can't tell from the way I dress, I royally hate clothes-shopping. When I was a kid, shopping with my birth mother was torture because after taking forever at every store at the mall, and dragging us all with her, she would be almost out the door... and then she'd spot something else on a rack right by the door... so we'd end up shopping for like another hour. D'oh! So exhausting!

During one episode of Duck Dynasty when Miss Kay took forever to shop for furniture, Phil wisely observed that when we women shop, we "browse." That's why it takes forever. We may not necessarily find what we need/want right away; we'll spend time looking at every single one of our options before making a purchase. (If we make a purchase.)

So, I missed inheriting the clothes-shopping gene, but I definitely have a browsing gene. I hate shopping for clothes, but I could shop for CDs or DVDs till the cows come home. Seriously. If you want to get rid of me for an hour, just take me to Movie Trading Company and drop me off. I'll get lost in browsing heaven. I won't necessarily even buy anything; I'll just explore options, compare prices, read song lists, scan movie summaries -- oh, gosh, I love to do that.

One time, my obsessive browsing possibly freaked out a manager at a DVD rental store. I was looking for a movie to watch, and I almost found a couple of them, but I decided not to after all, and I insisted on looking at almost every shelf, and I think I combed the entire store like two or three times. I almost bought candy but decided not to after all. When I walked out of the store with nothing, the manager exclaimed exasperatedly, "The whole store?!?" Um, yes. Sorry. (It ain't my fault you have a crummy selection.)

So, when God tells me to not go shopping for strife inside my head, I know what He means. Say, as a very silly example, that somebody tells me that I remind them of their Aunt Harriet. Aww. And they love their Aunt Harriet. And I take it as a compliment. Shopping for strife would be sort of like looking for trouble where there is none, and you just browse until you exhaust yourself. "Wait. When she told me I remind her of her Aunt Harriet, did she mean that she only wants to see me at Thanksgiving and Christmas?? Or that she secretly hates her Aunt Harriet, and now she hates me, too??? Or that I'm old and dorky????? You know, I never liked that chick, anyway. I should unfriend her. No, I should tell her off before I unfriend her. No, I should crash the restaurant where she's having dinner with her friends and tell her off in front of them. You know what? I'll rehearse what I'm going to say right now! Um... no... that would result in her calling the police... getting a restraining order... and I'll probably have to go through therapy again... and who will feed my cats for me while I'm in the psych hospit-- WAIT, WHY THE HECK HAVE I TAKEN IT THIS FAR IN MY HEAD??? There probably wasn't even anything there in the first place. Gosh."

I know, silly example, and it honestly happens much more vaguely than that for me. But maybe you get the idea.

"Trust in Him at all times, you people; pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us. Selah." (Psalm 62:8)

 

Regarding my cat Choochie, perhaps one reason why she's so close to me is because I HAVE TO keep her close so that I won't lose her. She is a very extroverted, outgoing, friendly cat. Years ago, before I got her "fixed," she had what vets refer to as "a tendency to roam." Of course, "fixing" her curbed that tendency (for the most part). But if I were to open the front door to my apartment, and if Choochie were unrestrained, she could possibly wander off and never be heard from again. And I would be heartbroken. So, I keep her close to me, and I daresay she likes it. Perhaps she adopted that snuggle spot that she owns on my chest way back when she was a kitten. But she knows that's where she belongs.

Of course, it's the same with me and God.

Oxen, donkeys, and cats know where they belong. They know who owns them.

I want to know who I belong with, the One who owns me, more deeply than ever. I don't want to wander off. I don't want to go shopping for junk that I'm not designed to use, store, nurture, or distribute. If junk boils up in my head/heart, I need to keep pouring it out to my Owner and letting Him help me work through it.

That spot between His shoulders is my space!